Scene, not heard

Pretentious or progressive? This art is sure to provoke reaction, writes Steve Meacham.

"What do I think of the Biennale of Sydney?" asked one highly respected Australian fine artist. "Typically Sydney. A tizzy, glamorous event of very little relevance to anyone outside the set who want to be photographed at first nights."

And the artists? "A bunch of poseurs who think it's still 'cutting edge' to collect a pile of dung and call it art," says another.

Harsh judgements, certainly, but their sentiments are shared by a considerable number of Sydneysiders, not all of whom are philistines. Ask around about the works in any biennale and certain words come to the fore. Pretentious. Silly. Pompous. But, then, according to cynics, the definition of contemporary art is something that is neither contemporary in the sense it has anything to do with the real world nor dependent on any obvious artistic talent.

So let's play devil's advocate. Why, every two years, does Sydney put itself through the ordeal of pretending it's the equivalent of Medici's Florence or the Paris of Monet? And, even if Sydney needed a contemporary arts festival back in 1973, is the concept pertinent 31 years later? Hasn't Australia and its arts scene moved on?

Let's call the first witness for the defence. Isabel Carlos, the Portuguese-born veteran of equivalent festivals in Venice, London and Sao Paulo who was invited to curate this year's Sydney event. How does she think Sydney compares?

Favourably, she says. Venice is the oldest and most prestigious (it began in 1895). And, yes, all other biennales live in its shadow, just as other film festivals are eclipsed by Cannes.

But Venice, she says, has a flaw. It's rather like the Olympics, where each participating country chooses which artists it wants to represent it in national pavilions. Sydney set a new model. Since the founding governor, Franco Belgiorno-Nettis, expanded his company's Transfield Art Prize into the first Sydney Biennale, the artists exhibiting here have been invited by a single curator, ensuring each successive biennale has a personal vision.

Other biennales and Carlos rates them in order of international importance as being Venice, Sao Paulo, Sydney and Istanbul (sorry, London, New York and Melbourne) have adopted the Australian model. Predictably, Carlos believes a single curator produces a more dynamic, integrated exhibition. Venice, she says, "is not really a show, it's an addition of nationalities".

How does the 2004 Sydney Biennale differ? "It doesn't come from a crane," says Carlos, meaning the works are not merely imported.

"It's a show made here in Sydney. More than 50 per cent of these works are being seen for the first time."

So what sort of people does she expect to visit?

"The same range as the artists in my biennale. The youngest is 26, the oldest 70."

Having lived in Sydney for the past two years, off and on, while organising the 51 invited artists from 32 countries, Carlos doesn't believe Australians are any less sophisticated than Europeans. She hopes "my biennale will send a message that contemporary art is not odd - that you can have fun".

Not that she expects visitors to like everything. "They can dislike, of course. But they must know why they dislike. They must ask themselves why the art provokes such an extreme reaction. Many of the works are confronting. But that is the nature of art. In the 18th century it was confronting to paint pictures of naked women."

Contemporary art "is real, it is a portrait of today's world", Carlos says. All she asks is that people approach the show without preconceptions; that they suspend disbelief. After all, she says, "children love contemporary art. They enjoy it, or dislike it, without prejudice".

The second witness for the defence is Paula Latos-Valier. She has been the Biennale's general manager since 1997, but her association goes back to the early 1980s. So she's ideally placed to talk about how the Biennale has changed and expanded over the years, particularly since the crisis year following the 1996 event when it was rescued from voluntary administration.

Latos-Valier says its financial future is now secure. The Biennale was one of the big winners in last year's Myer report into arts funding, which led to the Howard Government pledging $750,000 to it over the next four years. The Biennale is also blessed with a raft of corporate sponsors, headed by Transfield and John Schaeffer's Tempo Services.

What makes such hard-headed business identities back something as "wacky" as contemporary art?

"They want to be seen promoting culture, not just sport," says Latos-Valier. "They see us as an organisation committed to international dialogue. We've shown 1200 artists from 60 countries.

"It's a very competitive business, contemporary art. How do you (as a young artist) get on the major stages of the world?

"We are the oldest and [most] pre-eminent show of contemporary art in Australia. The Biennale is about the import of ideas, but it is also a promotion of Australian talent. And that is seen as extremely valuable [by the business community]."

The 2002 Biennale attracted 250,000 visitations (some visitors attended several events). Since its launch last Friday, this year's event is on track to match that record, even surpass it.

But doesn't a biennale just preach to the converted? Not true, insists Latos-Valier, who says statistics show that "50 per cent of our audience are attending a biennale for the first time . . . there's enough interest for people to think they should at least have a look."

In any case, the horizons of contemporary art have grown in the three decades since that first Biennale and there's a lot more crossover. "A lot of young people in the world today are incredibly connected with the ideas going on in design, fashion, art, visual media, TV, movies - especially in Australia," Latos-Valier says, pointing out that in 1973 it was difficult enough getting a subscription to an overseas arts magazine.

So what yardsticks will be used to measure the success of the 2004 Biennale? Visitor numbers? Feedback from art critics around the world?

Carlos warns against leaping to a verdict too soon. The judgment of time, she says, is the only useful measure.

If the cross-pollination of ideas has stimulated young artists or "if in two years' time you can still remember a work that provoked a response, it will have been a success".